Every Moment Marked
by kohimiruku
Summary: Late at night, Watanuki watches Doumeki sleep. Rated T for swearing. In-progress, shounen-ai if you read it right.


**Title: Every Moment Marked**

**Pairing: Watanuki Kimihiro/Doumeki Shizuka**

**Rating: T for swearing**

=o=o=o=

_"...and I have the sense to recognize __that I don't know how to let you go..._

_I'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire-the yearning to be near you..."_

_- Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have to Do"_

=o=o=o=

Watanuki is staying overnight at Doumeki's—in the house where no one else seems to live besides his classmate—and the absence of noise is keeping him awake.

In his apartment, he's used to the dog down the hallway barking starting sometime after midnight and lasting for a few hours, and the couple living on the floor above him has biweekly arguments over household chores and missed date nights. At the shop, he can hear Maru and Moro snoring like the children they appear to be, and more often than not he can hear the faint rustle of silk as Yuuko-san walks around during the night.

But at Doumeki's, all Watanuki can hear is the other boy's slow, deep breathing, and that's only if he strains his hearing. Doumeki is only a futon away, barely inches from Watanuki's own. It had bothered him in some way, sleeping so close together as if implying an indecent sort of relationship, but he hadn't spoken up. Having Doumeki so _close_ also gave Watanuki a sense of relief; nothing sinister could so much as look at him for tonight.

But despite all this Watanuki is restless, so he turns onto his side and gazes at Doumeki, whose profile is blurred without the aid of prescriptive lenses. He scoots closer for a better look, sits up on his elbows, rests his chin on his palm and sighs almost inaudibly.

Doumeki is so good-looking it makes Watanuki _seriously_ pissed off.

His hair is short, but thick, and full-bodied—not like Watanuki's. Watanuki thinks his own hair has the sole good trait of being inky-dark; otherwise it's fine, like a child's, and prone to embarrassing cowlicks and flyaways. Watanuki's gaze trails to the nape of Doumeki's neck, where the hair curls just slightly in a way that's almost endearing. This naturally leads his eyes to follow the strong line of Doumeki's jaw, which ends in a squared-off chin. It's all so very _masculine_, and Watanuki absently, irritably rubs his own rounded chin against his palm as he continues to stare at his temporary roommate.

Doumeki's eyes are closed as he sleeps (and thank god for that, Watanuki thinks with a shudder), with lashes that are dark but short, which is normal for a boy their age. The creases of his lids indicate how deep-set Doumeki's eyes are, which makes them alluring—_annoying_, Watanuki corrects himself, shaking his head. The deep, burnished gold that usually sees right through him is for now hidden by heavy lids, and Watanuki thinks he's probably thankful for that. His own eyes are an impossible deep blue, too bright of a contrast with his pale skin. Watanuki wishes sometimes _both_ his eyes were gold like Doumeki's, instead of just the one. Frankly, he's sure he looks even odder with one eye that suits him, and one that never did.

The straight line of Doumeki's brows is creased in his sleep, presumably by a dream, and Watanuki finds himself doing the strangest thing. He watches his free hand lift, watches his index finger brush softer than a butterfly's wing over the furrow in Doumeki's brows, and finds himself half-smiling as the creases disappear and Doumeki's forehead relaxes. As if unsatisfied, Watanuki's finger glides soundlessly down the bridge of Doumeki's nose. It's more a soft curve than a straight line—a pleasing cross between aristocratic and traditionally Asian. Watanuki thinks his own nose isn't much more than a button—and you can't properly intimidate someone looking down a button nose. He knows; he's tried.

Doumeki stirs just slightly, and as if burned Watanuki yanks his traitorous hand back to himself, eyes wide, face burning guiltily, heart hammering in his chest. But seconds turn into minutes and Doumeki doesn't wake. He purses his lips a bit, then relaxes again into peaceful sleep, and Watanuki stares at that _mouth_. He doesn't think it's normal for any guy to have a mouth like that. Watanuki's own lips are fairly standard fare for any man—a bit narrow, nothing really unmistakable. But Doumeki has this full lower lip that, upon catching sight of it, makes Watanuki want to…_lick_ it.

He doesn't do so.

But he _does _think about it.

Watanuki sighs to himself, because none of this obsessing over Doumeki's looks is anything new, but he can't bring himself to label what the obsession could mean. He's quite firmly in love with Himawari-chan, but he will admit to himself that Doumeki is…attractive. Maybe he can blame that on the shared eye, too…

Watanuki notices the arm propping up his head is losing feeling, so he lowers himself back to his pillow, letting his eyes wander lazily across the bronzed, broad expanse of collarbone and shoulder he can see from his new vantage point. Doumeki's muscles are also seriously unfair. They're not huge enough that Watanuki can quite complain, but they're obvious enough that every breath Doumeki takes highlights their lean shape, and the perfect, tanned skin is drawn taut over the swell of developing muscle. Watanuki feels his mind growing fuzzy as sleep begins to creep up on him, but undeterred he moves closer, wanting to see just a bit more, just a bit more voyeuristic, rude, inappropriate peeking before he _has_ to sleep…

=o=o=o=

Doumeki stirs in the early morning, feeling like he wants to sneeze. He doesn't open his eyes, unwilling to waste precious sleep. Instead he wrinkles his nose and turns his face away from whatever the offending thing is before the urge disappears. He sighs groggily in relief, turning back to where he was when he's met with a faceful of something soft—ah, crap, the sneezing-thing is still there. But what is it? Realizing he has no choice but to open his eyes, Doumeki swears to himself before blinking blearily, needing a few seconds to refocus before his eyes open wide.

The sneezing-thing is Watanuki. More precisely, it's Watanuki's hair, because Watanuki himself appears to be half in his own futon and half in Doumeki's, with his head resting on Doumeki's chest and a stupid smile on his face.

What?

But why…?

Doumeki would ask himself these questions, but it's so rare for him to catch Watanuki unguarded and _not_ yelling obscenities that instead he just stares. The thing Doumeki has always known is that Watanuki, while annoying, naïve, gullible, and loud, is also almost stupidly attractive. He looks so good that sexuality has nothing to do with it. Doumeki admires Watanuki the way one admires a painting; he doesn't really need to know _why_ he likes looking at it. He just likes to look, and that's it.

_Might as well look now._

Watanuki's hair is actually quite soft, once Doumeki moves his nose out of it. It's not silky-soft, like girls' hair, but more comfortable-soft, like a favorite shirt three washes away from falling apart. It isn't unruly like Doumeki's own hair, and it's enviably straight and shiny. Not that Doumeki himself would want shiny hair, but…somehow it suits Watanuki.

Watanuki's lashes are as dark as his hair, and kind of long, almost dusting his cheekbones as he sleeps. His eyes—Doumeki wishes he could see them now. Watanuki has the most brilliant blue eyes Doumeki has _ever_ seen, in a painting or in real life. They're almost inhumanly blue, so deep yet somehow so bright. They suit Watanuki's moon-pale skin, and the jet-black lashes that frame those eyes make them impossible to ignore. Doumeki always feels strange when he catches the gold of his own eyes reflected back at him from Watanuki's neutral stare. That dull, tarnished gold doesn't do Watanuki any justice.

Inexplicably, the rest of Watanuki's features are nearly normal, as if to not outdo the magnificence of his eyes. His nose is small, but in a sort of cute way, though Doumeki makes a face at thinking that to himself. His mouth is usually slanted in some sort of grimace or growl, but his lips…it isn't that they're particularly full, or even narrow. But the _shape_ of his lips is fascinating. Doumeki has found himself captivated by those lips for whole minutes when he's not paying attention to the words spilling angrily out of them. Watanuki has these lips that seem to always be perpetually seconds away from a kiss. When he pouts it's nearly unbearable; but when he's upset, they flatten into a thin line, and those eyes get painfully, gorgeously expressive.

Watanuki has the face of some tragic hero in a manga, and Doumeki knows he can't compare.

Not that he's ever wanted to. But Doumeki knows that next to Watanuki, he must look painfully plain by comparison. Doumeki doesn't shine and glow like Watanuki does. Doumeki blends in, and he doesn't miss the irony in that. Watanuki himself seems to hate attention, and while Doumeki doesn't crave it, he doesn't mind it either.

Watanuki suddenly shifts, and Doumeki snaps back to reality, feeling his ears and cheek warm up as his chest tightens guiltily. He knows it's weird to stare at someone while they sleep, and it's got to be even weirder to stare at your mostly-friend-occasionally-rival of the same gender while they sleep, and it's got to be _really_ strange to stare at that same person while they sleep _on your chest. _No, this won't do. Doumeki clumsily but carefully manages to return Watanuki to his own futon without disturbing him, and turns back onto his side to face away from him, his heart pounding in his ears as though he was nearly caught reading a dirty magazine. But it's fine now, Watanuki is sleeping somewhere behind him and all will be fine until the morning.

Doumeki is nearly asleep again when the nostalgic scent of cigarette smoke wafts over him, but he scrunches up his nose and burrows further into bed.

The scent becomes stronger now, but Doumeki clears his throat to get the smoke out, and pulls the covers up over his head.

A few moments pass until the cigarette smoke quite rudely puffs right up his nose, and Doumeki flails. "Christ! What the fuck?" Cursing blearily, he turns over to escape the smoke and finds himself face to face with Watanuki, who has that goofy smile on his face again, and combined with that damn smoke Doumeki thinks he has a pretty good idea what's going on. _Ugh. Even when he's dead he still makes me do the right thing. _"Fine, okay? Fine. I'll keep an eye on him. Now leave me alone, 'm tired… Go bother Watanuki in his dreams or whatever…" Doumeki grumbles to the room at large, and just as his eyes fall shut he swears he can feel a large familiar hand pat his head.

=o=o=o=

Watanuki wonders, when he wakes the next morning, why Doumeki has such a _stupid_ smile on his face. Maybe he's dreaming about girls, he thinks. But then why the smile? Maybe it's naked girls…

Doumeki awakes to a sharp smack on his head and steam actually coming out of Watanuki's ears as he yells something about "Oi, Doumeki! Dreaming about things like that when I'm sleeping over! HAVE SOME SHAME, YOU _PERVERT!"_

=o=o=o=

**End Chapter 1! I can't say when the next chapter will come, but please let me know what you liked or disliked about this chapter! **

**=^..^= kohimiruku**


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